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What happens when my back is turned

Recently, I off-loaded 800 photos from my phone and stored them on my computer. Then, I deleted about 300 of them... the ones captured by my two youngest children, mostly of the floor, the countertops, their feet and up their noses. 

I decided to keep this series of shots, though. I even turned it into a quick, 15 second video:


If you decide to play it more than once, you'll notice that's me in the background, in my pjs, dirty hair and all. I'm probably trying to send an email before we head out the door for the day. Cate uses the opportunity to crawl on the kitchen counter, reach into the junk drawer, swipe a pen, and scribble on the checkbook. Also, in the background, you'll see a bar stool pulled up to the pantry. The little gremlins are constantly doing this... gaining leverage to steal snacks. 

Here's another shot, taken one early morning in February. School was canceled, and Dillon was peering out the window, looking for snow. 

I remember wanting to blog about this... and how it made me think about anticipation. And expectations. But I never did write about it, because I remember feeling like everyone was sick of snow days. And also, because by the time I got back around to it, the moment had passed. 

It was time for Cate's birthday, and Dillon's birthday. And auditions for Listen To Your Mother. And spring break. And show day. And Blake's graduation from preschool. And my husband's 40th birthday.

Big events on top of important milestones on top of everyday life. And to be honest, I'm having quite an emotional hangover, friends. 

Sometimes I feel like life is like the photo and video I shared today. Waiting for something to happen, or fasten your seatbelt and hang on because a whole bunch of things are happening. 

I thought I'd write more about Blake finishing preschool. About how it seems like I was just blogging about Dillon finishing preschool. I thought I'd make all kinds of comparisons, showing you photos from three weeks ago and three years ago.

Instead, I opted for this one. Blake and I had gone to the beach for a class field trip. He stuck close to me that day. I snapped this photo as we sat on a towel, counting to 100. (We might have cheated, but only a little.) 

This week, Dillon finishes second grade.

So many things happen in those few seconds when my back is turned. That's true. But moments seem to fly by, even when I'm watching.


Goodbye winter. Goodbye springtime. Hello summer. Here I am. Eyes open. Heart vulnerable. Waiting. Ready. 

A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.
— Maya Angelou

New on the Year in Pictures page: Just keep swimming. 

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Let yourself linger. Let yourself get attached.

A million little moments